


Distort Them as You Please

by J (j_writes)



Category: Zombieland (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There aren't any facts to know about me.  Even if I told you any, all the interesting ones would be fiction."  <br/>"Then I'd only believe the boring ones," he said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distort Them as You Please

**Author's Note:**

> written for Fandom Stocking based on a prompt by Canadiandiamond.

"I'd like to know some facts," Columbus said, settling down beside Wichita with a bottle of wine.

"There are 22 bones in the human skull," she told him. "We are currently 47.3 miles from the first known zombie breakout in California. Pineapple has enzymes that digest proteins, so when you eat it, it eats you back." She looked up. "Would you like some more? I have a 12 year old sister, so I know a lot of useless facts."

"I knew those ones," he said. "I meant facts about you."

"Those are facts about me. I have a skull, and I'm made of proteins."

"Too bad," he said. "If you weren't, the zombies would be a lot less interested in you."

"I'd make a terrible android," she said. "I'd gum up the works with this or something." She held up the bottle of wine in illustration, then lifted it to her lips to take a sip.

"Yeah, but your origin story would probably be that your little sister built you in a lab," Columbus pointed out. "Which is pretty badass."

"That is quite possibly the least badass origin story I've ever heard," she replied. 

"I don't know, I think it's kind of sweet."

She made a face. "Exactly." She passed the bottle over to him. "There aren't any facts to know about me," she said. "Even if I told you any, all the interesting ones would be fiction."

"Then I'd only believe the boring ones," he said.

He looked at her expectantly until she sighed. "Fine," she said. "We used to have two pitbulls, I've never seen a baseball game, my favorite amusement park ride is the swings, we left home with the clothes on our backs and five guns between us, and my favorite color is blue." She looked at him and raised her eyes. "Care to take a gamble on which of those were true?"

"All of them," he said with a shrug. "None of them. Does it matter? Which of them do you _want_ to be true? This is Zombieland, remember? We make our own reality."

"That's easy for you to say," she said. "You don't have anyone who remembers _actual_ reality."

"Easy," he repeated flatly. "Because everyone I knew is dead."

"In some ways," she said with a shrug. She drank some more wine.

"She wouldn't tell me even if I asked, though," he said, and when she cast him a questioning look, he continued. "Little Rock. The two of you have been inventing the truth for so long you probably don't even remember what it is. And even if she did, I probably haven't made it onto the list of people she trusts."

"Of course you haven't," Wichita agreed. "I'm the only one on that list, and even that's a tossup sometimes."

"See, there's a fact I believe," Columbus replied.

"What about you?" she asked. "I don't know any facts about you either, except for how you follow those stupid rules."

"Those stupid rules have saved your ass – " he began, but she waved a hand to cut him off.

"I'm just saying, if we're going to do this, we do it right." She handed him the bottle. "An even trade."

He shrugged. "Everything interesting about me happened after the zombies," he said.

"Then tell me about that," she offered. "You never said they had to be facts from B.Z."

He was quiet for a while, reaching for the wine bottle and taking a sip. "An even trade?" he finally repeated. "A truth for a truth?"

She shrugged. "Sure, however you define that. Here, I'll start." She looked off into the distance and smiled. When she spoke, her voice was a little softer than before. "We used to have two pitbulls. I've never seen a baseball game. My favorite amusement park ride is the swings. We left home with the clothes on our backs and five guns between us. My favorite color is blue, and I genuinely believe my sister might make it through this thing alive." She took the bottle from him and took a long swig. "That was six. Your turn."

"I've never had a pet. I played baseball in elementary school until I realized I sucked. Amusement park rides make me puke. I packed carefully before leaving home, and I’m kind of horrified but not at all surprised that you didn't. I don't really believe that people have favorite colors. You're probably right about your sister, and I think the same is true of Tallahassee. Also I don't think that last one should count as a fact, since it's clearly an opinion."

"Your _face_ is clearly an opinion," she said.

"That's not even – "

"Not us?"

"What?"

She shrugged. "Little Rock and Tallahassee, you said. But not us?"

"I thought we were telling the truth. I'm high-strung, and you're impulsive."

" _I'm_ impulsive? You're the one who shot Bill Murray."

"I shot Bill Murray because it fell within a strictly-defined code of behavior that I live by. It wasn't impulse, it was necessity. The fact that you don't understand that is why I worry for your continued survival."

"Worry?" she repeated. 

"Bad choice of words," he said, then shrugged. "Fuck it, fact number seven. Or six, since I maintain that last one didn't count. I'm worried."

"About me?" 

"Sometimes."

"That's…oddly sweet. Thanks, I guess." She considered it, drinking some more. "What if we balance each other out, though? If your lists and my impulsivity add up to something that doesn't get eaten by zombies?"

He shrugged. "Unlikely, but possible."

"Fact number seven – "

"Six," he interrupted.

"Fact number whatever the fuck. I guess hijacking you guys wasn't the worst idea we've ever had."

"No," he agreed. "That was filling an amusement park with zombies and trapping yourselves inside of it."

"Nobody asked you."

"Next time, you should," he advised her. "Also, that wasn't a fact."

"Fine, here's a fact," she said. "I'm going to kiss you right now, and you're going to like it."

"Your definition of 'fact' – " he began, and then stopped talking altogether as she climbed into his lap and proved exactly how factual her statement had been.


End file.
